Bleeding Love
by Noorlo
Summary: One for my mom. One for Castle leaving me. One for the stupid brunette. One for the bullet that once sat in my chest. One for being my stupid, damaged self. - absolutely deserves T-rating, might be triggering.
1. Chapter 1

**Pretty graphic selfharm, so if you're easily triggered I would advise you to turn around now.**

**I don't know why I wrote this; I'm really into the 'dark' stories lately, you might notice that when I publish the other oneshots I'm working on now. **

**Enjoy.**

…

It didn't take much to get here. not anymore, at least; the need for release has been building within me ever since the shooting, but I didn't know how to achieve that.

Until now.

Because now I know exactly how to achieve that release, and I know I will.

…

Bimbo number one; A blonde flight attendant named Jacinda. She was smiling like an idiot at all times and drove recklessly. –Okay, I might have only seen her drive once, but still…

''_She's fun and uncomplicated; just what my life need right now.'' _

Those words had stung so badly; he could've just slapped me in the face and it wouldn't have made a difference. For whatever reason he'd been cold and distant to me for a while now, but this was just mean, and he knew that.

Bimbo number two; I didn't remember her name, but it was something that you would name your stupid little dog after and she actually carried around a Chihuahua in a stupid pink bag at all times. The pet was loud and annoying and God; how could he like this woman? She looked like a Barbie-doll and the stupid dog reminded me of Royal and how we took care of him together and how he held my hand and…

Anyway; as far as I know the woman only wore pink and she was a walking cliché. Also, she overused her perfume and she smells like she bathed in it.

Up until here I could've handled it. It hurt, and getting my own coffee everyday was a painful reminder of what –who- I was missing, but I was okay.

But then he walked in with two coffees in his hand, and he sat down in his usual spot and for a slight second I believed that maybe he got over it –whatever 'it' referred to. But then it became clear that the coffee was only a bribe to get information out of me, and that hurt even more than him just ignoring me.

Was I _that_ worthless to him?

Then Slaughter happened; hitting on me and obviously ogling me. It hurt; because it was Castle who was supposed to do it in a slightly more civilized way and I would make a comment and he would grin and… god.

But the worst hadn't even happened just yet; after we closed the case and Slaughter went home (of course not without making one more vulgar comment on my ass) another woman stepped out of the elevator.

I wish I could call her bimbo number three but well… I couldn't.

Because she wasn't a bimbo; she was normal, she was real. She was actually gorgeous and god, this was even worse because I could not find one reason to hate her –except then that she was with Castle, but I couldn't use that excuse; obviously- or why Castle would not like her.

She was tall, wearing a simple jacket and jeans combined with a pair of high heeled leather boots. She wore only a little bit of makeup but she still looked gorgeous, her long brown hair fell onto her back and she smiled _so_ brightly.

I could never compete with that; her body, maybe, but her smile?

Never.

…

I don't know how I got here, on the floor of my bathroom and my back against the cupboards of my sink. Neither do I know how I ended up with the sharp piece of metal in my hand, or why I even own it.

(He doesn't love you anymore.)

My heart clenches; I can't handle this anymore. I feel like I'm gonna burst open any moment now.

So I better do it myself, then.

I don't know why I am doing this; don't know at what point I lost my ability to think rationally and clearly. All I know is that the metal feels cold against my burning hot skin and that I feel the desperate need to press down.

(Maybe he never even loved you at all. He just _said_ he loved you; doesn't mean he actually did.)

I repeatedly let my head fall down against the hard surface behind me, but I don't feel it.

I hear a sob escape and only then I realize that I am crying; my face is wet with tears that are falling down my face. I see them fall into my lap as time passes, but I don't feel them escaping from behind my eyelids or making their way down my face.

(He doesn't love you.)

How could he do this to me? Tell me Always, make me believe in his stupid goddamn Always and then just leave me at that?

He didn't even explain; didn't even say goodbye.

He just left – physically he might still be here but everyone knows that his heart and soul are not at the precinct anymore; at least nowhere near to me.

(He doesn't love you.)

Images of him with that last woman make me want to throw up; not because they're 'nauseating', but because the thought of him sleeping, even kissing or even being with another woman literally makes me feel sick to my stomach.

(You're not good enough for him.)

I can't handle it anymore.

I press down.

A flash of pain shoots through my body, but it pierces the numbness I was feeling before.

I tightly shut my eyes and throw my head back. God it hurts. It hurts so _good_.

I move the blade to the right and feel my skin tears open as if on command.

Here I rule; here only I decide what happens, and who kisses who and who lets down who, and who kills who, and god, even who lives.

(He doesn't love you.)

(He doesn't love you.)

(He doesn't love you.)

I feel something sticky and warm trickle down my wrist, and although the sobbing has stopped and made place for silent tears, I know it's not tears that I'm feeling.

Somewhere along the third slide I have relaxed my face; my eyes are still shut, but only lightly, and I know I am smiling.

(He doesn't love you.)

I don't know how many times I have already slid, lifted and pressed down when I finally open my eyes and let the razor fall down on the ground.

I hear it drop on the tiles as I continue to feel the blood dripping out of my wrist.

When I look down, five cuts are staring back at me; dark reddish blood staining the creamy white skin of my arm and dripping on the floor.

_One for my mom._

_One for Castle leaving me._

_One for the stupid brunette._

_One for the bullet that once sat in my chest._

_One for being my stupid, damaged self._

I've stopped crying. I just blankly stare at my wrist.

…

It feels like I'm waking up from some kind of trance when I finally stand up and tightly press my fingers around my bleeding wrist. I open the cupboard that hangs above the mirror; I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. I am pale and tired and my eyes are puffy and red. I look empty; hollow; cruel.

I pick up a washcloth and hold it underneath the tap; when it's slightly moist I wipe the blood away. It hurts. Not in a good way anymore.

My skin feels like I'm holding it in a burning hot fire.

_Why did I do this?_

When my wrist is relatively clean, the white washcloth has turned red.

When I wrap a bandage around my wrist –tightly, hoping to stop the bleeding- I wince.

_It hurts._

Then I hold the dirty washcloth underneath the tap again to clean it. The water quickly turns pink, but the stains don't go away. So I leave it in my sink and turn off the tap. Then I bend down to clean up the floor; it's not much, but a few red droplets disturb the white of the tiles.

I scrub it clean with bleach, although I know that with the right equipment everyone will be able to see the blood.

One last tear escapes when sit down on my couch and I pray to wake up from this nightmare.

_What have I done?_

…

**This will be a two parter, I think the second chapter will up quickly. **

**I would love to hear what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for your wonderful reactions to this story! I'm really glad you like it, since I was kinda nervous about posting it in the first place.**

…

I arrive late at work the next morning because I have been stressing out ever since I woke up. My wrist had started bleeding again somewhere in the night and I had woken up to a red-stained pillow case.

I have changed the bandage twice already but it seems like every time the wounds close up, I stretch too far and they open up again.

Also I have been freaking out over the fact that someone might notice.

''Morning Beckett.'' Ryan said as he walked past my desk and dropped a few files on Esposito's.

I could vaguely hear him mutter something like; ''Come on bro?'' and smiled.

''Morning.'' I answer, but he's already gone.

About half an hour later, the elevator opens again to reveal Castle. He walks into the bullpen with a determined look on his face; I don't get why.

He didn't bring coffee, but it's not like I was expecting him to do so.

After a cheerful greeting to the two male detectives across from me he falls down into his chair.

''Morning Detective.'' He says, but he doesn't smile or make any other comment. It hurts; him being so cold. So does my wrist.

Shit.

My wrist.

When I realize that I had completely forgotten about it, I quickly pull in my arm and rest it against my body, underneath the desk. I hiss when I bump into the edge.

I can see him frown, but he doesn't comment on it. Not like he would before. Before he would have asked me what was wrong, he would have pushed me to tell him and he would be overprotective. And I would dislike that, but what wouldn't I give for him to be like that right now.

''Guess who decided to come in today.'' I mutter under my breath as I rearrange the wooden elephants on my desk with my right hand.

''I'm sorry, what?'' He asks, but I know he heard me.

''Nothing. Morning.''

''What did I do?'' He asks accusingly.

As if he doesn't know that.

''Nothing. I just didn't think you would come in today.'' I answer, and it's the truth; mostly.

''Why wouldn't I come in?'' He asks, again with that accusing voice, as if he was so innocent.

''Oh, I don't know, maybe because you haven't been here for weeks now!'' I shoot back. I'm angry now, angry that he makes me feel this way; angry that I am angry at him because really, I shouldn't care.

''What is that supposed to mean?'' He yells, and he stands up. ''I have been here almost every day the last few weeks!''

''No Castle. You weren't here. You were with Slaughter!''

That's true. He might have been here, but if Slaughter wasn't, then I am sure he would've spent at least half of the time at home. Or at a bar, or a party, or some bimbo's house – whatever.

''Oh is that what this is about? You are still jealous?'' He yells back incredulously.

''I am not jealous!'' I scream. ''You're just-''

Then his expression changed and before I know what is happening he has yanked my wrist towards himself and is forcefully tugging me along towards the break-room.

I wince and feel tears well up. His hand is closed tightly around my injured wrist and I can feel the cuts re-open.

I hiss and make some kind of sobbing sound.

''Castle let me go!'' I say as I try to pull my wrist free, but the move only makes it hurt more.

''No Beckett. We are going to talk. Now.'' He says, and I can't blame him for not understanding, but I can't explain and he just _has_ to let go, because it hurts _so_ bad and –

''No, please!'' I wince. ''Just let go!''

We have arrived in the break room now and he lets go of me with an exaggerated move. But he had closed the door behind us and stands in front of it protectively.

''I'm not going anywhere I just-'' I stop talking when I catch sight of my wrist; I'm wearing a long sleeved crème-colored shirt of which the left sleeve is currently stained with blood.

Shit.

The bandage must have been dirty already and I figure that I must have re-opened the wounds when I tried to pull away.

I stiffen and try to hide my arm by putting it behind my back. I can't let him see it.

''What?'' He asks.

''Nothing.''

''Look, this is what is the problem Kate!'' He exclaims. ''You don't talk to me. You always pass everything off as 'nothing', and that is not how it works!''

''You don't understand!'' I shout back. ''Some things are just none of your business!'' But I have moved and unconsciously brushed my hair back with my left hand and now he is staring at my wrist.

''Kate,-'' He starts, and he looks so worried that he forgets his anger. ''-you're bleeding.''

I pretend to look at my arm and to only now notice the stain.

''Oh,-'' I smile nervously. ''It's nothing.''

''What did I just tell you? This is not nothing, Kate! It's stain as big as a- a-'' he pauses and tries to think of a comparison, but he's distracted by the blood and steps closer to me.

''I just scratched it yesterday when I was trying to repair something in my house.''_ Yeah, right. I 'scratched' it when trying to repair my heart._ It's a faint excuse; I know that, and to be honest, I don't expect him to believe it. Not Castle.

''Roll up your sleeve, I'll get you a bandage.'' He says, but I shake my head.

''No. No it's fine.'' – I don't want you to see the cuts. You can't see them. Please let it go.

He's already rummaging through the first-aid kit that's sitting in one of the cupboards of the break room.

I slowly roll up my sleeve, but I know I will have to take off the bandage as well. I can't do that. So I leave it on.

He turns back to me, holding bandages and a pair of scissors, and sits down in the chair that I'm standing in front of.

He grabs my wrist; careful not to touch the bandage this time.

I don't look at him. I _can't_ look at him.

When he starts to pull on the edge I speak up.

''No. Stop.'' I speak loud and clear.

He looks up in surprise.

''What's wrong?'' He asks, his voice soft.

''No. Please. You can't-'' I start, but there is no valid excuse for this, except the truth – the truth; that what he cannot know.

He chuckles.

''Come on; it can't be that bad.'' He smiles at me. ''You didn't cut your wrists yourself did you?'' He laughs, and I know it's supposed to be a joke, but I am not able to form any words.

I just blankly stare at his face.

''Oh god. Please tell me you didn't…'' He whispers when the realization forms inside him. He slowly unwraps the bandage and shock covers his face when the five ugly wounds face him. ''Kate…''

His face is full of pain. God, why?

After staring at my wrist for a while, holding it lightly in his hand as if he was afraid she was going to break, he looked up at me.

''I'm sorry.'' I whisper and I try to pull my wrist back, but he hold it there and slowly starts to clean it. He doesn't say a word while he washes the old blood away and puts on another bandage.

I'm terrified. I wish he would just _say_ something.

When he's done, I lean back against the cupboards. I'm on the other side of the room now, couldn't stand the closeness.

''It was just an accident…'' I whisper, and he finally looks up now.

''Just an accident?'' He said incredulously with a humorless laugh. ''Kate, _that_ is not just an accident!''

He doesn't sound comforting. He sounds angry. And that scares the shit out of me.

What if he's disgusted by me? To be fair, he has every reason to be; I am a monster. But still; the whole cause for this was him leaving me, but what if this only contributed to it?

''I was..-'' I start weakly, but I don't know what I was going to say in the first place. I feel dizzy. ''I didn't know what I was doing; one minute I was just changing my clothes and then I was sitting on the bathroomfloor and I…-'' I sigh. I'm so embarrassed by myself, I'm so scared of his opinion.

What if he tells someone?

My breathing starts to speed up, and I know it's the beginning of a panic attack. I can't let this happen to me; not now, not here.

But then he stand up from his miserable position in the chair and walks towards me. He puts his hand on my shoulder and stands in front of me; looks me in the eye.

''Hey, it's okay. I'm here. Breathe Kate.'' He says soothingly and for a moment I believe that he actually isn't angry anymore, but then I realize it's Castle, the one who always wants the whole story, the one that needs to have an ending. That only freaks me out even more.

When I regain some control I try to speak again, but I stumble over my words and I feel faint.

''I'm – I'm just sorry, okay. I'm sorry.'' I say, but my voice comes out weird and weak but then also way too loud. It's like I'm not even me anymore, like I'm watching the whole scene through someone else's eyes, yet they are my own.

''Why?'' Is the only thing he then says.

''I don't know, okay! I just- I was sitting there and then it felt like I was going to explode and suddenly I had the razor in my hands and-'' I ramble, but he interrupts me.

''That's not what I meant; why are you sorry?'' He asks.

''I'm just sorry you had to see this.''

''You don't need to apologize to me. Not for this.'' I can't help but notice the bitter undertone in the last three words. I wonder why he's so angry.

I shrug; don't know what to say otherwise.

''Why did you do it?'' He sighs but I don't think he actually wants to know the answer, and I sure as hell aren't going to tell him.

I shrug again.

''What does it even matter?'' I try to brush it off, the room seems to be getting smaller every second and I desperately want to go outside to breathe some fresh air. But he keeps staring at me and I know I have no other choice than to answer him. ''It just felt… like I was going to explode. With everything.'' I then hesitantly admit.

He doesn't reply, just keeps looking at me. But after what seems like ages I can't deal with his silence anymore.

''Yeah, you know what Castle? Whatever! What does it even matter to you? Eh? So just stop bothering me!'' I then exclaim angrily as I stand up straight.

''Why can't I be concerned for you Kate? I am your partner!'' He yells, apparently he has forgotten whatever else was bothering him, because I seem to be his partner again. But I don't need to be second choice, I don't need to be a pity-case.

''I am your _partner_?'' I almost spit the words out, as if they taste like shit in my mouth. Then I let out a heartless laugh. ''Goddamnit Castle, do you even hear what you're saying ?''

He frowns.

''You know what? I actually thought that that _meant_ something; partner, Always, all that _bullshit_. I actually thought that what we had, that that was something _special_. But apparently I was wrong, because the moment something doesn't go the way you want it to, you walk away. Then you just leave me there, then you just take another 'partner'. It took us nearly three years to get to that; to partners, but with Slaughter you got there in a goddamn _day_! So I don't know what that means anymore Rick! I don't know! And as for 'always'; I don't know that either. If always means only in times that you like me, then I don't need it. Then I can do without it.'' I yell. I'm almost out of breath when I finish but the raging fire inside of me only seems to be getting stronger and stronger.

''That's you think? That I _like_ you?'' He growls back, and it shocks me. I didn't know he was going to be so blunt. ''You think I like you?'' He repeat slowly. ''You don't have to hide it anymore, you know. We both know how I feel about you Kate, and that that is a lot more than just _liking_ you.'' He then explains angrily.

''If that is love then I don't think I ever want love.'' I scream back. ''If you just leave me for the first blonde bimbo that walks by then I 'd rather be alone. Because I can't handle that; I think this is enough prove for that.'' I yell while waving my injured fist through the air, but while I do so I already regret it. That was low, to use that against him, and wrong, to let him know that he was the last straw.

''I was just trying to get over you.'' He sighs.

''Why? Because you suddenly realized I was not as perfect as I appear to be? Because a small heads up would have been pretty great.'' I say, softer now but my voice doesn't hold any less anger.

''Well excuse me for trying to save some of my dignity!'' He snarls. ''You could have at least told me straight away that you didn't feel the same way Kate, instead of making me wait for you like a fool when nothing will ever happen _because you don't love me_!''

There's a small pause. Silence.

Somehow those words relieve me, a little bit. Was that really what he thought? If it was then maybe I could still save this whole thing.

''Really.'' I flatly state. ''You think I would be in such a state if I didn't love you? You think I would cry over you if I didn't love you? You think I would have done all those things I have after the shooting if I didn't love you? Of course I love you, you idiot!'' I yell.

This isn't the way it should happen. I don't know what way it should but not like this; not with five cuts in my arm and my head full of anger. I shouldn't be yelling at him like freak. It should be sweet and happy and I should kiss him.

But I don't.

I don't kiss him and he doesn't kiss me.

''You love me?'' He asks after the realization sinks in.

I shrug.

''Yes of course I do.'' I answer softly.

''Does that change anything?'' He then asks me.

I shake my head. Because no, it doesn't. I don't want our relationship to start like this.

''No.'' I see his face drop but I know he didn't expect me to say anything different. ''Not because I don't want it too but because we just… can't. We can't start a relationship through screams and cuts and…- you know..'' I sigh. ''Not right now. I don't want you to do this because you feel bad for this.'' I say, gesturing to my wrist.

''But-'' He starts but I silence him by giving him that look I know he can't resist.

''I'm not saying never, Rick. But not right now. Not because of this.'' I give him a nervous smile. ''And you still have the brunette.'' I say, my face dropping but I quickly hide my insecurity by putting on another mask.

''Oh. Right. I- just. You –uh.'' He stutters, taken aback

''It's okay. '' I then answer and I'm surprised by how _okay_ it actually feels.

A small smile appears on his face, and I step forward and put my arms around him.

He closes him around me; tightly. It feels amazing; he's strong and broad and warm and hard but also soft. He smells so nice; a mix of cologne and just him. I feel him drop a kiss to my hair.

It's an innocent gesture and maybe to many people not more than a friendly affirmation, but it means _so_ much to me.

''Just for the record; I'm totally breaking up with her.'' He mumbles into my hair and I smile. ''I didn't even sleep with her.'' He then whispers, and I know he's grinning.

''No?'' I ask, because I can't deny that that makes me feel a whole lot better.

''No.'' He affirms. ''Only with the first one.'' He then adds. ''The second one was just too…-'' He pulls a grossed out face and I can't help but laugh. ''The last one looked too much like you.'' He's serious now, I can hear it.

I pull back and smile at him.

''Thank you.'' I whisper honestly.

He doesn't answer. Maybe 'always' would have been in place if this was any other moment, but it just wasn't appropriate for now. And I didn't care. It was okay.

''Can we just make one deal?'' He asks as he straightens out a few wrinkles in his shirt.

''Probably.'' I hum.

''I will wait, as long as you don't hurt yourself again.'' He says softly. He has that concerned look in his eyes.

''Deal.'' I answer.

Then I smile. We will be okay; I'm sure of that now.

**Please note that I have marked this story as complete **_**for now**_**. I'm currently busy with a lot of stories, so I will finish those first, but when I do and when I have enough time I think I will continue this story. So if you're interested, I would advise you to keep the story on alert :P**


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